Batman: Reborn
by The Hammer
Summary: In this new and radical look at the Batman mythos, Bruce Wayne must answer Gotham City's call for a Savior while walking the ever-thin line between hero and monster. Current Villain(s): The Boss and the Roman
1. Default Chapter

Birth of the Knight

Part One

            There were days, _dark_ days when Bruce Wayne wanted to shove a pistol down his mouth and blow all of it away. He was tempted to just get up and leave this board meeting, go home and finish it.

            "Our contract with LexCorp will be expiring next month and I think it's important that we make the compromises that Mr. Luthor suggested before Osborn Industries makes their move." An underling on the opposite end of the table informed him, ever so gently.

            Bruce grimaced, not one of them was his friend. Each one smiled falsely and gripped the knives they held behind their backs eagerly. Well, he wouldn't let them, if Bruce was one thing it was stubborn.

            After the meeting ended, he was left in the dark and moody board room alone while the executives filed out in dull precision. Bruce wondered if he should have killed himself now to surprise the others when they returned but like so many things in his life nothing really materialized.

            He walked towards the back of the room and peered out the window down at the city of Gotham with its depressing spires and narrow streets. The city called out to him at times, urged for him to join its cycle of carnage, but Bruce had never answered. If things had been different, Bruce knew he would have been part of the death and misery but fate hadn't dealt him those cards. At least it would have been a direction.

            In the distance he could see searchlights, the faint echo of sirens and men's voices. So Bruce pulled up a chair and watched, waiting for _something_.

            Police commissioner Gordon stared at the elementary school while his men set up barricades. "Okay, Napier, we're bringing the money." He said through the speakerphone, "How about letting go a few of the hostages as a show of good faith."

            "Don't call me that." A cold, calculating voice replied over the school's P.A. device with the volume turned up so that the police could clearly hear him, "Never call me that!"

            "That's your name isn't it?" Gordon asked trying to keep the hostage taker on the line away from the children. 

            The voice laughed excitedly back at Gordon, terrifying every nerve in his body. "Jack Napier is dead. Your wonderful police force made sure of that with that when you lodged a bullet in my brain."

            "So what should I call you?" Gordon asked watching several snipers take positions on the roof of a building across the street.

            "To be perfectly honest, I would prefer you call me, the _Joker_!" The madman screamed shortly before breaking down in uncontrollable laughter.

            Gordon sighed and looked at one of the men under his command, "This is going to be a tough one."

            Bruce walked into the parking lot wearily. He wondered why he even went through the motions anymore, work he meant. These days, Wayne was only there in a physical sense.

            He spotted his car, a nice one, Italian, but it was just part of his façade, the image Bruce had sprung up to fit in at the golf clubs or with the boys at work and such, he had always had a utilitarian sort of outlook.

            Entering his car, Bruce gripped the wheel and sighed loudly. Tonight, he'd fall asleep in the study with a drink in his hands as he did _every _night. It was tiresome and now more than ever, Bruce wished he kept a handgun in the glove compartment.

            "We have your money, Joker, the full amount as you requested." Gordon declared, "He'll drop it in through the window of the first floor like you requested."

            Joker laughed as he watched the officer approach holding a briefcase, "That is wonderful news. You've made a wise choice here, commissioner, we can't have little kiddies dying now can we? Who would want that?"

            The officer moved towards the window carefully and dropped the money in through the open window and quickly backed away from the money.

            "If parents can't expect their kids to be safe at school then where can they be safe?" The Joker continued on, "Do you know the answer?"

            Gordon frowned; he wished that Napier would just pop his head out, if only for a second, so that a sniper could give the bullet in his skull a twin. "No, I don't."

            "The answer is nowhere." The Joker replied, "There is no safe realm from my kind. It really will be a shame to blow all of that money away."

            "What?" Gordon asked dumbfounded by that last short statement.

            "Oh, did you think I really needed the money?" Joker inquired, "No; that was just part of the _gag_, besides I couldn't pick it up if I wanted to, I'm not inside; just a few of my hapless goons to enforce the peace, I wanted an audience and you've supplied it for me. Thank you, commissioner. Unfortunately, this show doesn't have an encore, bye-bye."

            The school exploded and in a mere instant the entire building seemed to be consumed by flames. Gordon gritted his teeth; over a hundred children had just been burned alive.

            Out on the balcony of his lavish penthouse situated at the very heart of Gotham, Bruce stared at the city and its gothic architecture while listening intently to the police sirens that wailed through the night. In his left hand, he held an edition of the Wall Street Journal and his right a glass full of whiskey.

            "Master Wayne?" Alfred, his butler, called slipping into the study, "Will that be all for tonight, sir?" He asked gently and respectfully as always.

            Bruce grimaced, staring at his old friend, "Sure. Goodnight, Alfred." He replied before returning to the interior of the study through the balcony doors and sitting down on an expensive leather couch to watch the news.

            "Goodnight, sir." The old servant responded and quietly collected his things before leaving the young billionaire alone to his thoughts.

            The news went on moving from one dull subject to another. Bruce was about to call things a night listening to just one final report.

            "At this time, police are still searching for Jack Napier. As you may remember, Napier had been shot in a botched bank robbery, the bullet lodging itself in his brain and causing irreversible damage. His death toll today official reached one hundred and thirty with the destruction of a _school_."

            Bruce could feel the liquor flushing through his system, he wanted to _forget_, he wanted to cast aside the nightmares so badly, but his memories would have none of it. As he drifted off to slip they returned to torment him.

Mrs. Wayne screamed while the man in black forced her against a wall while her husband was being beaten to death, the image of blood on the attacker's knuckles remained fresh in his mind. And in the midst of the horror, Bruce cried.


	2. Birth of the Knight Part Two

Part Two

"Mr. Wayne, thank you for coming over." Mr. Jinx exclaimed nervously.

Bruce moved past the fence gate and shook the hand of the man in charge of Wayne Enterprises planned construction of a plant on the cliffs overlooking Gotham shore. "I trust this is as important as you say, I postponed a board meeting to come here."

Jinx nodded, "It is." He said rubbing his palms together, "Believe me, sir, you'll be glad I called you."

Moving into the construction site, Bruce made eyes with each and every worker; his own father, Thomas, had been in pits just like this one in his youth, he still remembered the stories the elder Wayne would tell him from those days.

Passing by the workmen and debris was difficult but Jinx seemed to know the grounds adequately enough. They finally came to an open gore in the cave, like a mouth leading into some hideous abyss.

"What is this?" Bruce asked staring into the darkness.

"It's a cave." Jinx replied, "We were blasting away as planned when one of the explosions must have caused a shockwave strong enough to make the rocks covering this entrance give way. We've sent men down there, and it's _amazing_."

Bruce grimaced, "I want to see."

"Sir, it's not safe." Jinx said cautiously, "We've used some ropes and pulleys but if something should happen."

"I said I'm going down." Bruce responded forcefully, "Now get me down there or I'll fire you, is that understood?" Being in charge definitely had its perks.

Jinx grimaced, "Y-yes sir."

With several ropes attached around his waist and a flashlight in his hand, Bruce was lowered down the mouth of the cave into the massive vast expanse below them. His light illuminated the interior features well enough. It seemed bottomless, stretching on for possibly miles.

There also seemed to be a large section of rock jutting out at the center, directly under him, leading out into the depths of the cave. "Lower me down!" He yelled out to the workers in control of his lifeline.

They immediately complied and dropped Bruce onto the rock gently before he gave the signal to stop. He looked down at the path of the central rock, and to his surprise felt flowing air. This cave network obviously led out to the shore somewhere.

It was now that Bruce noticed a screeching noise, becoming ever louder, forcing him to shine a light onto the source. His eyes widened and he quickly pulled the light away realizing what he had truly found. Thousands perhaps even millions of _bats_, hung from the roof of the cave in a deep slumber.

"Odd." He remarked to himself, not at their presence, but at how comfortable he felt here. Bruce felt excited, energized, and active more intensely than he had in years. He tugged on the line and his ascent began.

"What should we do Mr. Wayne?" Jinx asked Bruce as he moved away from the site back towards his limo, parked outside the gate.

"Halt construction, I want no more blasting." The tycoon replied almost eccentrically.

Jinx frowned, "Halt construction? Are you sure about that, sir? Why?"

Bruce stopped and faced his underling with a stern expression which immediately established his dominance in the matter, "Because I told you to." That cave was unique, accomplishing something no amount of stock reports, alcohol or women could do: it interested him.

The Joker grinned cruelly at the young girl-scout tied to the floor. "That'll teach you to go knocking on the doors of strange people." He exclaimed biting a chunk off one of the cookies she had brought with her.

"Don't hurt me!" She exclaimed horrified at her potential fate at the hands of this madman, "I won't tell anyone you're here, I swear."

"What's with all of this crying?" Joker asked, "Here have a cookie." He said throwing one from the box at her cheek before breaking down into a maniacal laughter. "I kill me."

Joker dropped the box onto the floor, "Fact of the matter; is I was bored as it was, and you've provided me with a perfect opportunity." He grabbed the small make-up kit from the couch of the small home in this peaceful suburbia; the stench of the previous owners still reeked. "You see my display at the school showed I was ruthless, no doubt about that, but I mean any loser could have done that. I need something to really flesh out my resume." He said as if confiding in the young girl. Joker pulled out lipstick from the kit and pressed it against his own lips turning them a bright crimson, "Something that'll really get them scared."

He now applied white powder to his face, "I mean I could do all sorts of horrible and evil things to you, but none of those would elicit the sort of response, I'm looking for. Don't you agree?"

"Please!"

"Hush!" Joker screamed angrily, "I'm thinking here." He exclaimed running his fingers gently through his newly dyed green hair. "What would bring them to their knees in fright?" Suddenly, a cold grin swept across his face, "I've got it. Little girl, give me your biggest smile?"

Gripped with fear she managed only a meager change in her facial expression, much to the Joker's disappointment, "We'll have to work on that. Never fear, I'm on the job." He said pulling a blade from his jacket pocket.

It felt as if the bats had reached into his mind. Bruce sat brooding in the study, already late for his weekly _jujitsu session_.

Alfred entered cautiously, "Sir, should I call to inform them you won't be attending today?"

"What?" Bruce inquired before realizing the time, "Oh, yes, thank you Alfred, tell master Kenshi that I was held by a board meeting or…something."

"I understand." Alfred said silently leaving.

Bruce grimaced as the image before him; the bat consumed the study, even the city with its darkness. And it was that darkness, that part of the cave that his vision could not perceive that fascinated him so.


	3. Birth of the Knight Part Three

Part Three

            Police commissioner Gordon stared at the map of Gotham city gravely; dozens of dots littered the city, each one indicating a location that the Joker had hit. He'd spent hours staring, in search of a pattern, until finally here and now he was forced to give up.

            "Napier's too clever for that." Bullock, an officer under Gordon's command and a personal friend, exclaimed entering his office.

            "Crazy would be a better term." Gordon replied grimly, "Dozens of specialists, the F.B.I., hell even a psychic, and we still have no idea where this clown is hiding. And even our search for where Napier might have gotten those explosives he used on the school turned up absolutely nothing."

            Bullock approached the city map and wiggled one of the tiny thumbtacks attached to it, "These guys always get to me. It's bad enough when somebody kills someone else just for whatever couple of bucks might be in their wallets, but these serial killers, man, they're the worst."

            Gordon nodded slowly, "Makes you wonder, doesn't it? How much does it take to snap like Napier? Sure a bullet might have triggered his insanity, but what about all those others, husbands waking up one morning and hacking up their families?" He shrugged, "Listen to me, trying to sound like I know what I'm talking about."

            "Well, what now?" Bullock asked sticking a cigarette in between his lips already reaching for his lighter.

            "I think the problem is that I've been trying to find where he is." Gordon remarked brushing his fingers against his dark mustache, "What about trying to figure out where he'll strike next?"

            Bullock shrugged, "With a city the size of Gotham. That'd be a pretty big task, especially for a police force that's suffered budget cuts like we have."

            "Sir, come quick!" An officer yelled as he entered Gordon's office, "Napier just sent us a videotape!"

            After the initial knee-jerk reaction they slipped the tape into the television set that Gordon had set up in his office. Officers crowded all around, leaving the police station in utter silence as the T.V. came to life.

            The image of a bland and almost bare room somewhere appeared. There appeared to be a girl strapped to a wooden chair at the center, her face was hidden under a white cloth. Then the Joker himself appeared, dressed as a surgeon.

            "Hello, Gotham PD, I assume you know who I am, and if you don't you sure will after my latest project." He laughed for a moment, almost unable to contain his emotion, "Sorry about that, now onto the matter at hand." The Joker grinned, "Now may I add that the chocolate chip cookies she brought were exquisite." He said pulling the cloth away to reveal his handiwork. "Now how's that for a smile?"

            One young officer went for the bathroom with vomit on the way. The Joker stared at the young girl's face, proudly, "Now that I think about it I guess I should have spent a few hours watching the ER. Oh well." He said before bursting down again. Gordon would have liked to have taken a crowbar to Napier's head. "Do you want to know what's really funny?" The Joker inquired. "She's still alive, my good friends, with the use of sedatives to ease her pain, and _block out the screaming_, in addition to some other wonderful medicines to help prevent infection my patient has survived. Although who knows what other experiments must be attempted in the name of science." He exclaimed almost stalwartly. "I'm not totally heartless, however. I shall give you a week and a half to find her before I start exploring the mysteries of the human brain. Ciao!"

            The screen went blank leaving every officer in shock, all except Gordon already standing up to help recollect the senses of his men. "Get on it, people! Find out if any girl scouts went missing recently, we have to stop this maniac in his tracks now!"

            Alfred moved through the Wayne penthouse making his daily rounds. He made the bed as he did every morning, even though Bruce almost never slept in it, instead feeling the need to pass out drunk on the couch.

            It pained the loyal butler to see such a young and promising youth throw their life away so carelessly. If not for the death of his parents, Bruce would have become like any other man.

            Alfred moved through room by room. There were only two areas that Bruce really paid attention to. A small gym had been set up full of weights, punching bags and so forth. His only passion aside from drinking was fighting and martial arts.

            He passed through Bruce's other favorite room: the study and was grabbing the various empty glasses that lay strewn about. Each one of them reeked of brandy, wine or whatever booze Bruce could get his hands on. Alfred was sure of it, if the alcohol didn't the young Mr. Wayne in, his own suicidal tendencies would.

            Coming to a table in front of the fire, Alfred spotted an odd drawing Bruce had made with a simple pencil. It was a sketch of a bat but contorted and twisted, it almost looked humanoid. He reeled his head back and began to realize the room was literally full of similar sketches each one darker and more morbid than the last. Alfred raised an eye worried, "Why do I stay here?"

            Bruce walked down the lonely dark alleyway of Gotham, almost a death sentence for a man that wasn't part of a gang, especially one dressed so obviously as a business man. He had been drawn here, something about that cave had triggered a response in him; it had started a spark that seemed to tap into every synapse and nerve.

            Before long, out of the hidden corners of the long winding alley men emerged. Bruce could already hear their footsteps surrounding him. As the first came in he twisted around and elbowed the goon in the nose.

            Two more appeared before him, with one lunging forward with his switchblade. Bruce grabbed the arm with amazing speed and contorted it around until he heard a snap forcing his attacker to let loose of the weapon.

            His friend clumsily swung his right arm to which Bruce blocked easily enough and landing a kick to his shin forcing the would-be mugger onto the ground grabbing the injury.

            The first attacker rose back up wiping the blood away from his nose and tackled this invader from the rear. Bruce's face slammed against the wall tearing skin. But he wouldn't be deterred. He managed to grasp the man's arms and pull them away from his own torso. As the criminal struggled in his hold Bruce landed a knee against his ribs and sent another blow into a nerve in his abdomen disabling him.

            Bruce stood there quietly looking at the three men who lay helpless on the ground. He could hear others running through the alley, _away_ from him. He placed his hand against the cut on his cheek and wiped whatever blood had managed to seep through. And without saying a word, Bruce turned around and quietly left the way he had come.  


	4. Birth of the Knight Part Four

Part Four

The police broke down the door leading into the home and immediately began to sweep through the house. Gordon followed in the rear and was greeted by the stench of rotting meat. It only took several minutes for the officers to secure the small but cozy home.

After the search had been completed without incident, Bullock approached Gordon who stared at an empty make-up kit on the couch. "The owners of the home are dead, gunshot wounds to the head. Napier is long gone. No sign of the girl."

"Damn it." Gordon exclaimed, exasperated, and stomped out through the front door.

Bullock stared at the kit for a moment before his eyes darted to a sharp object to the side; a rusted blade lay before him, its edge covered in blood.

Bruce descended into the cave with the moon hanging over him like the grim reaper urging him onto his inevitable doom.

Using a rope tied to a piece of machinery outside left behind from the now cancelled construction project he managed to lower himself onto the central platform. He turned the flashlight in his hands on and peered across the cave. The bats were gone apparently after moving on elsewhere. After a careful search of his immediate surroundings he spotted an entrance into the depths of the cave. Bruce loosened the rope and with a deep breath moved inwards leaving his lifeline behind.

He had been without a purpose, but now, something had changed, as he traveled deeper he felt the answers he had so long sought being answered and for the first time he did _not_ want to die.

Bruce traversed a small cave tunnel with only his light as a guide and the sound of wings fluttering in the distance. He moved on for what seemed like miles, the caves were expansive and any _sane_ man would have turned back for fear of getting lost, but he _wouldn't_.

He emerged into a new chamber, and with just a quick sweep of his light he was astounded. A massive peninsula of rock had formed in the center. Bruce moved across the naturally formed bridge and looked to the ceiling literally covered by bats.

They had give him purpose, revitalized his life. And with this glimpse into the dark abyss something clicked in Bruce's mind. He knew what had to be done.

The next morning Alfred walked into the study to make his usual rounds and run whatever errands needed doing. However, this day, he found Bruce sitting on the couch writing down notes onto several slips of paper, almost frantically.

"Master Wayne, you're not going to the office today?" Alfred asked a little surprised by this break in the almost flawless routine.

"No, there are more important things to be done. Alfred, come over here." Bruce exclaimed placing several slips of paper into a brown envelope. "I need you to take this to Lemon Design and Fabrics."

Alfred nodded and grabbed Bruce's envelop even as he was taking notice that one of the pieces of paper placed inside had seemed to contain sketches of some kind of figure.

"You must do this in person but do not give any identification and tell them you will return in six days to pick it up, they are to follow the instructions inside the envelope to the letter. Do not mention my name or open the package when you receive it." Bruce moved a picture aside and opened a safe, "Here; that should be enough to ensure they cooperate." He stated handing his butler several thousand dollars in cold hard cash, "That's a down payment for them. Inform them I will also pay an addition bonus upon completion."

"Sir, what is this all about?" Alfred inquired worriedly.

Bruce grimaced slowly, "Purpose."

Harvey Dent, the former district attorney, stared at his opponent arrogantly, "Well if Mr. Weeks would do what was necessary and give the Gotham Police Department the funding they need then Jack Napier wouldn't still be running through the streets killing whoever he pleases."

Weeks' retort was both clumsy and poor, and Dent loved every minute, especially with the cameras that were rolling. "How would you spend the budget then? Gotham is a city with many problems and handling all of them is a difficult task."

Dent laughed, "If you're having trouble dealing with Gotham then maybe its time to step aside for somebody who can." The election for Senator had heated up in recent days especially with the increasingly popular cry for social change that had been heard from nearly every corner of the city.

The press soaked it up and watched every misstep of Weeks with a predatory eye. After the debate finally ended, both candidates retreated to their various camps and after Dent socialized with his supporters and staff he left amidst the smiles and praise of the city citizens.

Opening the door to his nice and comfortable apartment Dent immediately entered the kitchen taking little notice of the presence hiding in the shadows. He grabbed a bottle of wine in celebration and with a big smile began to pour it into a glass.

"I hope you have one for me." The Joker said entering the kitchen. He was wearing a goofy purple tuxedo to go along with his freakish makeup.

Dent dropped the bottle on the floor and stumbled back in shock, "Jack? What are you doing here?"

"Me?" The Joker grinned, "Not much, I _was_ going to ask for a sip but I see it's already gone to waste." He said pointing to the broken bottle at Harvey's feet.

Dent gulped and finished what wine was in his glass, "You know you shouldn't be here."

Joker grimaced, "Hey I thought we were friends. That's not very friendly; after all I've done for you." He laughed loudly holding his ace in the deck over Harvey's head, "Imagine what the people would think? If they found out their up and coming star and the boogieman of Gotham were both buddies. Especially since you've used me to hammer your political opponent so badly, it would make you look like a _criminal_. Wait, you are a criminal!"

"I haven't touched a soul!" Harvey exclaimed.

The Joker patted Dent on the back, "But you got me those explosives with your connections, didn't you? When I asked for them you were more than eager."

Harvey gulped, "Why are you here, Jack?"

"I need something else from you." Joker asked grimly.

"What?" Dent inquired, "If its more explosives, I can't, not without raising a red flag."

Joker shook his head, "No, of course not and besides I wouldn't try the same trick twice." He rubbed his hands together, the madness of his mind becoming ever more twisted.

Dent was now becoming frustrated, "Just get to the damned point."

"Screen time." The Joker exclaimed, "And lots of it.


	5. Birth of the Knight Part Five

Part Five

In that black void he stood. Constant preparation, calling in favors, using his power at Wayne Enterprises to get the equipment, weapons, gear, all the while avoiding the suspicious eyes of the board and even Alfred had been a long and arduous process but it had been worth it. Everything he needed was before him and it was in this world of constant night he was ready to be reborn. From the package before him he tore its contents out.

He first grabbed the cowl, and stared into it's maw for a moment preparing to pass the point of no return and then without another moment of hesitation adorned his destiny.

The police vehicles rolled down the streets barreling at speeds far beyond the safety limit. The stolen armored truck careened in between lanes just ahead.

Bullock in the lead patrol car played shotgun, literally firing his weapon at the truck in an effort to shoot its tires out, "Get us closer!" He yelled to the driver, trying to line up another shot. The doors to the back of the truck were ripped open revealing the thugs inside armed with a stinger missile. "Holy sh-."

The missile was launched forward and found its target destroying one of the chasing police cars, the flames engulfing the entire vehicle in moments.

The chase moved onto a long and relatively narrow highway, any other vehicles had already pulled to the side allowing this police drama to go on uninterrupted.

Bullock opened fired again to which one of the robbers retaliated with gunfire of their own from an automatic rifle. "I can't get a good shot in!" He said retreating back into the safety of the car. "Call for backup."

Suddenly, what looked like a black sports car zipped by along the Bullock's vehicle, not in an effort to escape the battle but instead seemed directly headed for the center of it. "Who the hell is that?"

The car had no identification or license plates from what Bullock could see and he already expected the worst. He kept a gun trained on the black car even as it passed by them and headed towards the armored truck.

On the armored truck the driver saw the black car moving in beside them and immediately put the pressure on the gas, "Whoever that is kill him!" He roared to his friends watching their rear.

The thug with the stinger missile wasted no time already loading his launcher for another shot. With a wide grin he fired but immediately his face turned into an expression of shock as the black car pulled wildly to the left avoiding the missile and continuing unfettered. Dropping his stinger to the floor he stepped back in a stupor before recollecting his senses, "Just don't stand there; shoot him!"

But it was already too late; the car pulled up alongside the truck away from the weapons of the goons in the rear and accelerated until he was directly beside the driver of the armored vehicle. The truck began to ram the other automobile, forcing it to slide against the metal railing and beginning to crush the frame of the weaker vehicle.

Out of the sports car emerged a black figure that leapt and landed on the exterior of the driver side of the truck moments before the smaller vehicle had been crushed alongside the railing. The driver tried to reach for his gun but already this _monster_ had smashed through the class and landed his elbow against the driver's chin.

Bullock watched this scene play out from the relative safety of his own patrol car, "Jesus Christ what the hell is happening up there?"

During their struggle, the driver of the truck finally managed to get a hold over his gun and aimed it for the attacker's face. The latter instantly retreated and seemed to fall away onto the street to the driver's amazement. After the initial surprise of his foe's actions, the driver laughed, "What a loon."

Meanwhile, that 'loon' had managed to grab a hold of the side of the truck with a sharp black boomerang and in short order managed to make his way to the top of the vehicle.

He gazed back at the police behind him, his cape flapping in the wind wildly. Wasting no further time, he jumped over to the driver's compartment landing on the engine directly in front of the windshield.

The driver's view had been blinded by his arrival, the cape covering his view entirely. He slammed on the brakes, while the figure smashed through the glass with his heel.

The police watched in amazement as the entire truck hit their brakes with dangerous power and stopped as violently, only able to watch as the armored vehicle tipped over slamming into the railing with deadly force.

A gas tank was cracked open and the sparks from the friction caused an almost immediate eruption. The fire blinded the officers and caused such confusion that almost half a minute passed before one of them were even able to react.

As they approached the fire cautiously, survivors began to emerge from the wreckage, burned but still alive.

Bullock helped one of the now battered robbers, the driver, to the ground, "Call for a medical team!" He ordered loudly somebody already was relaying the message over the radio. "Who did this? What happened?"

"He's gone." The driver asked almost as if his mind was somewhere far away, removed from the carnage, "A bat; a giant bat."

"Hello, New York." A familiar face said over the broadcast channels reaching almost the entire population of Gotham city within seconds, "Joker here at the headquarters of would-be senator Harvey Dent." He grinned widely, "A hammer is falling tonight, my fellow citizens and I promise you we will be all the better for it. I might be a little extreme, perhaps a tad overzealous but I think we can all agree that I am the Pope when it comes to politicians. Dent here has called me everything from a psychopath to a pedophile and I'm sick of it. So I've decided that I'll stick my two deadlines together. Yep, that's right _tonight_ is the night I kill that poor little girl-scout." He adjusted the camera to show the young girl bound to a chair with cloth over her head, "But also I will give the audiences the pleasure of seeing Harvey Dent _die_." He exclaimed, "And to show I'm not kidding." He moved the camera to the assembly room of the civic center where several dozen people huddled together in fear, the Joker then returned on screen with a machinegun in his hands. They had decided that Dent would save the day only after Joker had finished the girl off, but what Harvey didn't realize was that the Joker intended to finish their arrangement for good, nobody was leaving here alive. "Stay tuned folks, because in three hours when the clock hits twelve it's going to be playtime."


	6. Birth of the Knight Part Six

Part Six

The trek from the highway had been a long and arduous one, all along the way Bruce scolded himself for losing his vehicle during the skirmish. He climbed the fire-escape and ascended the roof of the building dressed in his new outfit.

The material was black, sturdy as rubber but flexible as spandex, it had been expensive but money meant little to Wayne. The outline of a bat hung proudly on his chest serving as to help support the motif of the small but visible bat-like ears on the top of his head and jagged cape.

He pulled the mask over his head and took a fresh breath of air; his lungs were still struggling to retain their steady patterns. He moved over to a brick chimney and lay against it softly. He was deep in the city, already somewhat lost with only a general direction of where to proceed.

As the adrenaline began to thin out in his blood, Bruce slowly began to feel a stinging sensation along his hands and quickly removed the gloves. A deep cut ran along the length of his palm and he gently rubbed it.

"How could I have been so careless?" Bruce complained, "I'm better than that, I know I am." He grimaced staring at the night sky full of beautiful stars, "The police, they only slowed me down." Bruce rolled over to his side closing eyes for only a moment to gain some energy back, "They were in my way!"

Suddenly, sirens echoed out forcing him immediately back to his feet. Without hesitation he had pulled his glove and mask back on and followed the flashing lights in the distance to the source of the trouble.

Bruce scoffed at their pretenses of trying to help, they were too incompetent in his eyes to stop a mugging, no; he'd have to take this into his hands. Vigilante justice; that was the way it had to be done.

The Joker cackled wildly holding his weapon tightly in his hands and gazed into the camera he had set up knowing full well that the eyes of Gotham were on him. "I'm sure that some of you poor saps out there are thinking that I won't do it, that no man can be so evil as to extinguish another life. Hah, life, what a gag that is."

He grinned proudly spewing forth whatever was on his mind at the moment, "What kind of life is it to be subservient to another? You live by your jobs, wives and children and in the end you're nothing more than slaves. I do what I want." The Joker seemed rather proud with himself as if he were some kind of visionary, "Because in the end we're all dead anyway, so why follow the rules for the sixty or seventy years we're here? Really, if I'm going to die I might as well take as many people with me as possible. If I was in charge of things trust me, they'd have to redefine crimes against humanities by the time I was finished." He looked at his watch for a moment, "Just another hour and a half to go until everybody's favorite sociopath gives you a nice look at the dynamic world of mass murder!" He screamed before breaking down in a fit of hysteria. The Joker checked his watch to see it was time for the drama to take a new turn and moved away from the camera to the hostages cowering in fear and then tapped his foot four times, a signal to Harvey to act and be the hero.

The man who hoped to be senator wasted no time and rushed out from the crowd, the Joker acted surprised for a moment only to take on an air of confidence, and just a foot away from Dent as he prepared to make contact, knocked him back on his rear with the butt of his weapon.

"Get back to where you were, Mr. Dent." He exclaimed to the stunned politician, "Go on, nobody's going to get a pardon here, and I have no intention of letting my little spree stop here." Dent, realizing the Joker had tricked him, slowly and quietly returned to the other hostages who quickly patted Harvey on the back for his failed attempt. The Joker cackled wildly, "I do love a good prank."

Without warning, the glass of the skylight seemed to shatter and soon a figure, almost straight out of hell, emerged landing on a piano. The intruder landed on the edge of the podium just a dozen or so feet from the Joker. "This is a private party!" He exclaimed, "And who the hell are you?"

Bruce peered out of his mask at this twisted image of a clown, "I'm vengeance."

"Vengeance?" The Joker rocked his head back, "Ah, who am I to talk." He reached into a pocket of his jacket and showed forth a small brown bag, "Just when you think you've made enough time, somebody always shows up to mess things." He opened the bag and threw the contents at the hostages: marbles.

Bruce could see the power inside the marbles moving as they rolled across the hall. "Get back!" He screamed to the hostages. Some followed his command and dived while others took one second to long as the marbles exploded covering the hall in smoke.

Chaos seemed to invade every one of his senses, forcing Bruce to shield his face with his cape. This madman seemed to have no concern for even his own safety and was reminded of how dangerous he could prove to be by the laughter still echoing through the hall.

Bruce leapt through the smoke and saw the Joker grabbing the girl-scout's motionless body, a cloth still over his face and heading for the rear doors leading out into an alley. He looked back to see Harvey Dent leading the other former hostages out through a fire exit. Assured of the safety of the hostages, Bruce went after the Joker.

The criminal fiend spotted the vigilante on his tails, "You're persistent aren't you?" He dropped the girl and aimed with his machinegun, "Let's see what you look like with a dozen or so holes in you." He exclaimed opening fire.

Bruce threw his entire body to the left and flung one of his boomerangs. The small but effective weapon slammed into Joker's hand forcing him to drop the weapon unwillingly.

"Damn it!" The Joker exclaimed even as Bruce rushed forward closing the distance between them. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small blood-stained hand-held knife, "Be careful, you never know what diseases these things are carrying." He said wildly swinging away.

Bruce dodged the first and knocked the weapon from the Joker's hands to which the clown immediately stumbled back. The fire was creeping on them bringing a sense of urgency to their battle.

The Joker landed a right to Bruce's face as he approached and got another chip blow with a left that found its mark on his chin. Stumbling back from the damage, Bruce wiped away the blood dripping from his lips. He caught the Joker's arm in the middle of a clumsy attack and used it to put him into an arm-lock. "It's over." Bruce exclaimed strengthening his hold.

"Not by a long-shot." Revealing a buzzer on his left hand he pressed it against Bruce's chest sending a powerful electric charge through the vigilante's body.

Stumbling back in anguish, Bruce landed on his knees clasping his heart gently, failing to notice the Joker's approach. The latter kicked him in the face, "What's wrong, you were doing well with all that kung fu a second ago."

Bruce forced himself back into action and knocked the Joker down with a low sweep kick. The fire had spread all around them, there was no more time. He spotted the girl-scout and grabbed her leaving the Joker to his fate as he struggled to even stand.

He spotted a window and smashed straight through it with everything he had. Bruce landed onto the street moments before the fire burst out at his heels trying to envelop him in death.

Landing on the street, he could see the police barricades, and the officers inside treating to the hostages that had already escaped. His entire body felt as if it were ash, while the side of his face ached in pain from the Joker's blows.

He reached over and removed the cloth to look at the girl's face. Bruce reeled back in disgrace, "Jesus." She was dead; there was no doubt about that.

One of the citizens spotted Bruce over the dead girl and called to the police drawing nearly every eye to the source of the trouble. But in almost the blink of an eye, Bruce had vanished into the night leaving only the lifeless body of a girl in his wake.

"So, Mr. Dent, you lead these people to safety?" Gordon asked the young man covered in smoke from the raging inferno that was now being dealt with by the fire department.

"Yes, I did." Harvey exclaimed loudly enough for the reporters huddled around him to hear very clearly, "It wasn't easy but anyone would have done it."

Gordon nodded, "Good job, Mr. Dent, you saved a lot of people today."

In an alley not too far away from the war zone, a bruised and battered but intact figure stumbled in the shadows. The Joker wasn't dead, far from it, that intruder had a made a fool out of him and that to this deranged individual was unforgivable.

Bruce placed his costume into a box and hid it into a crevice of the cave. His body was exhausted, his mind begging for rest but past all of the pain and bruises he finally understood his place in the scheme of things. The girl lying there dead in the street had been a call to him, a focus for his crusade.

"Dad, mom, this is for you." He swore in the depths of the cave with only the bats as witnesses. What happened to Bruce would never happen again, he'd strike fear into the hearts of criminals; he'd save this city no matter the cost. The path before him was no doubt difficult but he was prepared for it. "I am the Night reborn, I am Batman!"


	7. Clown Prince of Crime Part One

Clown Prince of Crime

Part One

"The mysterious vigilante calling himself _Batman_ as been sighted once again roaming the streets of Manhattan, this time foiling a drug ring moments before what police say would have been the start of a gang war. At this point in time, authorities don't know who Batman is but are continuing their investigation. In other news, Harvey Dent appears to have the election for Senator clinched, after rescuing dozens of people from a building that been lit on fire during the incident involving Batman and Jack Napier. Police believe Napier died in the flames that occurred three weeks ago."

The Joker kicked the television off the table and leaned back into the couch of this small and wretched opponent. The female owner who had originally lived here lay dead just a few inches to the side of the twisted killer.

"_Batman_!" The Joker exclaimed with a grimace across his face, "Who does that wacko think he is? Me?" He asked with a measure of resentment to this new caped crusader. "Showing up there, ruining my well-laid plans, making me into a…a joke!" He rose up from the couch, only a few spots of white paint still marked his face, "And Dent, oh he's a fool if he doesn't think I'll go after him."

He snapped his fingers and stared at the smash television, "Damn, now I'm going to miss out on _Friends_!"

Bruce stared at Matt Hagen, one of Wayne Enterprises' ambitious younger elite, "You're going?"

"Of course I am; the Gotham Arts Ceremony is a very prestigious event, I wouldn't pass it up for the world." Hagen replied, "Why do you ask?"

Bruce shook his head; both men had run into the other while riding the elevator down to the lobby. "I'm not."

"What?" Hagen's eyes slowly expanded in surprise, "You've gone the last seven years; I remember the last time you left with _both_ the Hilton sisters. What's keeping you back?"

His reply was simple and vague, "Work."

Hagen frowned, "Work? You can't skip it for one measly day; some of the most famous women attend this event to just meet _you_."

"If I meet a woman, I'd like it to be a bit more spontaneous, not something some socialites been planning for months." Bruce replied, "Besides, I never liked it, the whole thing was just a social gathering, it has nothing to do with art."

"And the problem with that is?" Hagen inquired almost stunned.

Bruce shrugged, "Look at this way, Matt, with me gone, your chances at meeting some lovely young lady to spend the evening with are higher." The elevator came to a stop and Bruce quickly filed out.

"Where you headed?" Matt asked following Wayne towards the exit.

"I've got work." Bruce replied.

"Give me your money!" The mugger screamed forcing the young woman up against the wall at knifepoint. "Give it to me!" He yelled out pressed the knife up against her neck.

"Please, don't." The lady pleaded, just coming back from work on the way to her children, "I don't have anything."

The mugger didn't take kindly to this waste of effort, "Jewelry, watches, anything! I'll kill you, I swear!"

"Leave her alone." A voice called out from the shadows of the street alley. The mugger turned and saw the figure emerge, "I told you to leave her alone." Batman ordered coldly.

"You think you're the big boss down here?" The mugger backed away from the woman, "You're not anything to me!"

Bruce closed his fist and casually approached the knife wielding maniac. "You had your chance."

The mugger lunged forward and swung clumsily with his weapon. It was a simple matter for Bruce to grab it. He then began to apply the pressure in the right points and continued until he heard a cracking noise.

"Ah!" The mugger stared at his broken arm, twisted at the wrong angle, "What did you do?" He screamed as Batman aggressively approached him. "_Please don't_!"

"Why should I?" Bruce asked emotionlessly, "You didn't show her any mercy." He slugged the mugger across the jaw and then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "So why should I?" Bruce rammed the mugger's skull against the side of the wall, leaving a crimson stain at the point of impact.

The mugger moaned on the floor, slowly whimpering beneath quite pleas for a reprieve. Bruce paid no attention kicking him across the jaw, sending the thief reeling back.

He took a moment to stop and look at the would-be victim. She stared at him terrified, "Don't hurt me!" She begged.

"Hurt you?" Bruce stepped back, looking at the bloodied face of the mugger, "Get out of here." He told to the woman who was more than happy to comply. Bruce could kill this man; it would really be a simple matter, but did he _want _to?

"Remember that I could have killed you." Bruce stated forcefully, "And the next time I see you doing this, I will." He quietly vanished back into the shadows as if he never existed.

An hour later, Bruce stood on a rooftop staring across the city with a difficult question before him. How far was this going to go? Would he kill, willingly? When did justice become murder?

The stain of the mugger's blood was still fresh on his knuckles. "I didn't anticipate this." Heroics always seemed clearer in dreams and visions. "I came close to doing it tonight; I need to think this over, put things into perspective."

Bruce concluded it must be the fatigue of the grueling regiment he'd been putting himself through over the course of the last few days. A good night's sleep would do him good.

Harvey Dent walked into his living room with a book between his hands; and the smell of wine in his breath. The ringing phone demanded his attention and he answered it moments after the first loud declaration of somebody trying to get into touch with him. "Hello?" He asked.

"Mr. Dent?" An aide, said to him, with a sense of desperation in her voice. "I've got news."

"About?" Harvey inquired, worried that somehow his poll numbers had taken a dip for the worse.

"John Cellar, your campaign advisor?"

Dent grimaced, the man was his most trusted friend, what could this be about he wondered. "Go on."

Several excruciating moments passed while the aide seemed to try and find the strength to even relay into words necessary to explain, "Mr. Cellar; was found dead at his home an hour ago. A smile had been carved into his face."


	8. Clown Prince of Crime Part Two

Part Two

He'd have to be an idiot not to know. After all, Alfred had seen the change in Bruce, had been a witness to his growing obsession with bats; willingly accomplished his ever increasingly odd requests.

As Alfred made his rounds through the house, it was painfully obvious that Bruce was no longer living here. That wasn't to say he came here, no appearances must be maintained. But after working here so long, he knew what signs of habitation to look for.

Perhaps this was for the best. The cabinets full of alcohol hadn't been touched for weeks, not one drop was missing. Why should he ruin possibly the best thing to happen in the young Wayne's life for years?

He'd continue to do his work, as he had done for years, nothing had happened to change that. Quite quickly, Alfred decided not to whisper this to a soul, it would remain Bruce's secret.

In his underground sanctuary, Wayne finished the long and difficult process of setting up the power generator. It wasn't overly large but produced a large output for something so very small.

He got to work setting up the connections, a little difficult considering the darkness with which Bruce was forced to deal with. Inserting the final plug, the cave suddenly came to life. The lighting he had installed illuminated the central platform and a short path towards a ladder that led out to the surface.

A top-of-the-line computer, with a wireless internet connection sat on a steel desk at the center of the platform. Bruce had also put up railing for safety's sake. It may not have been one of the most elaborate lairs but it would do the job.

Meanwhile, Harvey Dent rubbed his hands nervously while in a meeting with staff. "What should we do?" He asked shakily.

"There's not much we can do, sir." One staffer replied, "Just keep making the rounds and building support, we're too close to a victory to lose it now."

"Are you serious?" Dent asked almost appalled at the suggestion, "Expose myself with Jack Napier about, you heard what he did to Cellar; he wants to do that to me."

The staffer took on an almost commanding stance, "Sir, get a hold of yourself! Listen to me, we can't show weakness, you have to show the people that you will not yield to this…_terrorist_. Yes, call him that in fact, inspire the people with courage. You just need one last little push to hold these numbers until people go to the polls."

Dent sat there for a moment, pondering the issue, and with a large smile nodded, "Great idea."

Elsewhere in the city, Gordon stared at the bar full of beaten and battered thugs, "Okay, what happened?"

Bullock with a large grimace shrugged, "What else? A large bat came in and cleaned their clocks." He pointed to the illegal contraband sitting on a table with money thrown all around it, "Looks like he broke up some kind of drug deal."

"Same as before?" Gordon inquired sighing deeply.

"Yep, no physical evidence for us to follow up on." Bullock shook his head exasperated, "Whoever this Batman loser is I don't know how we're going to catch him except for blind luck."

"Should we catch him?" Gordon asked gravely, "Would it be for the best if we did?"

Bullock frowned, "These vigilante types are no better than the Joker, let me tell you. It's just one little hop over in the other direction and they're the same person." He lit up a cigarette, "Better we catch him now before he flips out and goes on a killing spree."

Gordon watched as the paramedics entered to treat the wounded, "Speaking of Napier, any more word on him?"

"You can never tell with that guy. We're still looking into the Cellar murder." Bullock responded.

Making a step towards the exit Gordon stopped and gave one last piece of advice to the portly detective, "Talk to Dent about getting some added security; he'll need every precaution he can get."

"So, Harvey, what seems to be the problem these days?" His psychiatrist asked in the privacy of her office.

"Everything's the problem." He replied pitifully lying on the couch, "Everything is bothering me."

She frowned and leaned in sympathetically, "I heard about the problems you've been having, with Jack Napier."

"Napier." Harvey grimaced, "I want to hurt him so bad. I want to rip open his skull and stomp on his brains!" He grabbed a pillow, "Napier…I…"

"Am I talking to Harvey?" She inquired. "Or Face?"

Harvey grimaced, "Dent chickened out. I'm here."

The doctor clicked her tongue, "I'd like to talk to Harvey; can you bring him back, Face?"

"No. He'll come back after he's done hiding." Dent replied emotionlessly. "He can handle the pressure."

"And you can?"

A smirk ran across Harvey's face, "Of course I can, I'm Face."

"Master Wayne?" Alfred said entering the pantry to a visibly tired Bruce, "Excuse me, sir, but should I inform Mr. Wright at the Arts Ceremony to not expect you."

Bruce nodded yawning, "Y-yes, I have other matters to attend to."

"Very well, sir. I'll inform Ms. Kyle as well." Alfred replied.

"Excuse me?" Bruce asked suddenly energized by the drop of her name, "Selina Kyle?"

Alfred nodded slowly, "Yes, she had called earlier to see if you would attend, I said I'd get back to her."

Bruce's eyes lit up, "You know what, Alfred, on second thought, I think I'll attend, actually."


	9. Clown Prince of Crime Part Three

Part Three

Selina Kyle stared longingly at the golden statue of a cat goddess, tucked away in a quiet corner of the art museum. The fact that Selina had decided to spend her time alone, perplexed many men at the party. After all, from her short black hair to her athletic physique she could have her pick of suitors. And that was for the better in Selina's opinion he began to reach out towards, it, and imagined the possibilities.

"Careful." A familiar voice said from several feet behind her, "I believe the museum has a 'you break it, you brought it' policy."

"Bruce!" Selina exclaimed with a smile forming across her face, "I'm so glad you decided to show up."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world." Wayne replied turning his attention to the statue, "You like it?"

Selina shrugged casually, "I guess it holds certain attractive qualities to me."

Bruce raised an eye, "Really? And those qualities are?"

"Independence." She stepped forward until she and the famous tycoon stood nose-to-nose, "Unpredictability." Selina wrapped her left arm around Bruce's shoulder, "And a good memory!" She exclaimed before slapping Wayne right across the face.

"I guess I deserved that." Bruce replied rubbing his cheek gently.

Selina shook her head backing away from him coldly, "Not so much as a phone call? After all of what happened between us in Europe, a month you called heaven, and you didn't find the time to ever call me back? What; was I a prolonged one-night stand to you?"

Bruce grimaced, "No, never, Selina, I would never do that to you. You're special to me."

"Then why did you just forget about me?" Selina inquired assertively.

"I had hit a bump in the road, my life was in shambles and it's taken me a long time to get out of that. I wasn't ready for a real relationship and if I had undertaken one at the time you would have only ended up hating me." Bruce replied, "But, I'd like to pick up where we left off."

Selina sighed, "Pick up where we left off? Is everything that easy for you? I waited you know when you said you had to go East, you didn't want to tell me what it was for or how long you'd be gone, but I waited."

"I did. Selina, I love you."

She shook her head gravely, "I know you do. That's not the problem; the problem's the fact that I was never part of your plans."

Bruce frowned watching her vanish behind the mass of socialites and slumped his shoulders in disappointment.

"Hey, you made it!" Matt Hagen exclaimed, "I though you weren't going to be able to show up." He said with two women in his arms.

"I was just leaving." Bruce declared coldly, "Have a good time, Hagen."

A knocking had come to Harvey's door. "Hello?" The man who wanted to become senator asked anxiously. When an answer failed to come, Dent quickly reached over to the bottle full of anti-psychotic pills and downed one.

The knocking returned, louder than before, almost if somebody where smashing their shoulder against it. "Is somebody there?" Harvey said rising up from the couch, "Hello?"

"I'm here with the pizza you ordered." The knocker said, "One pie with extra-cheese."

"What?" Harvey grimaced and approached the door, "I didn't ask for a pizza."

The person on the other side seemed to be checking their papers for a minute before they confidently answered, "You're Harvey Dent?"

"Yes." He gazed through the peephole; he could see a large fat man, with the logo of a local shop on his t-shirt with an odd blank stare. Harvey closed the peephole and leaned wearily against the door.

"That means this pizza is yours." The deliveryman replied.

Harvey sighed, irritated that this was quickly turning into a convoluted mess, "Listen to me, for the last time I didn't buy a pizza." He unlocked the door and angrily swung it open, "So get the f-."

Staring closely now, he saw the awful reality of it all. The Joker emerged from behind the fat man pulling his hand out from _inside_ his back like a twisted ventriloquist ending his act for the night. The deliveryman dropped to the floor in a puddle of his own blood while Dent's tormentor pulled out a gun from his left coat pocket.

"If you thought that was good, wait until you see my next trick." The Joker exclaimed firing a bullet into Dent's gut.

The politician crumpled to the floor of his apartment while Joker loomed over him menacingly. "Please!" He pleaded in between coughing. "Don't kill me."

"Killing you is certainly in my power, but that would be a waste and I never waste good material." The Joker grabbed his trusty blade, "Don't worry, Harvey, I'll cauterize your _face_ when I'm done." He dragged Harvey and the deliveryman into the apartment, "And then it'll be Bats' turn."

In the museum long after the party had wrapped up and the building locked down. A figure shrouded in darkness managed to crack through the security locks. Navigated the complex maze of laser wires,

The police kicked open the door to Dent's apartment, Bullock quickly entered just behind the officer who had taken point. The pizza shop reported that they had received a call from Harvey Dent but the deliveryman that had been sent had failed to return, and with good reason it appeared.

The gurgling noises coming from Dent upon their arrival forced Bullock to take immediate action, "Call a paramedic!" He screamed staring at the sight. He left the room, feeling his stomach beginning to turn in disgust.

Gordon came marching down the hall, purpose guiding every one of his steps, "What happened to Dent?" He asked.

"Dent…" Bullock took a moment to regain his composure, his skin still pale from the sight before him, "His face."

"What about it?" Gordon waited for a moment for a response that didn't seem to be coming, "Damn it, Bullock, what happened, what happened to Dent, what's wrong with his face?"

"The right side of his face…it's gone."

Gordon grimaced, "What? You mean burnt or lacerated?"

"No. I mean it's _gone_."


	10. Clown Prince of Crime Part Four

Part Four

"Make sure this man gets immediate attention." Gordon screamed as paramedics carried Harvey away on a stretcher, the skinned half of his face forcing the commissioner to look away in disgust.

The Joker had sent them all a message, a declaration of intent, and they had received it loud and clear. Gordon sighed uneasily. "I guess that ends Harvey Dent's political aspirations."

"Hey, commissioner, we just got a call." Bullock exclaimed running up from behind his boss.

"What now?" Gordon hesitantly asked.

Bullock wasted no time in blurting out the message that had been relayed to him, "Somebody broke into the art museum after the ceremony ended, managed to bypass security and made off with over a dozen of their most expensive pieces." Gordon began to laugh forcing Bullock to rock his head back in shock, "Boss, are you okay?"

Gordon rapidly shook his head, "I need a new job."

Placing his fingers against the steel fence the Joker allowed a toothy grin to creep across his face, "I've been meaning to get a new place." He exclaimed staring at the abandoned carnival grounds, overrun with vegetation and stray animals. "A little cliché, but I'm a sucker for this sort of stuff."

He climbed up over the fence and landed past the barrier. Like a prospective buyer he began scouting the place out checking every nook and cranny, keeping his hands firmly gripped on his blade, should there happen to be an unlucky vagrant on the premises.

"This should do quite nicely." The Joker declared happy with the grounds, "Now all I have to do is get the Bat's attention."

"Mr. Wayne?" A voice pierced the silence that had pervaded the empty office. "Hello, sir; are you awake?"

Bruce snapped into action, the world appeared as a blur to him. "W-what is it?" He asked rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Sir, Mr. Takagi has been waiting for an hour." The secretary informed him while gently helping her boss to his feet. "I think you overslept."

"Overslept?" Bruce checked his wristwatch only to see how much time he had lost. "Thank you, um, inform him I'll be down shortly." He ordered heading to the coffee machine while the secretary quickly slipped out.

Bruce was sure that this gossip would sweep through the company, news of this nature had a way of doing that, and he was also quite positive that the cause would be attributed to his well-known drinking habits.

Of course they could never have guessed the real reason. He had been out to four in the morning out on patrol, exerting himself to the limits of human endurance. Even now he fought the burning temptation to roll back into his seat and catch some very much needed hours of rest.

But he couldn't do that; he needed to be both Batman and Wayne, even though he would have preferred the first of the two, the latter provided him with resources, contacts, etc, that he needed to keep up the lifestyle that the former required.

Maybe he'd see and if he could get in contact with Ms. Kyle. The sting of her rejection still bothered him, after all, she hadn't realized how much he had changed in the last several weeks, how greatly focused his life had become, but then he remembered Selina's words, her accusation of never being a part of his plan and realized despite it all, she was right.

Even now, when he envisioned his life, she wasn't there, Bruce couldn't picture himself with Selina and now being Batman had only complicated things. With a heavy heart he sighed and forced himself to be content with a hot cup of coffee for the time being.

The bus stop pulled into its destination and began to take on passengers. For the driver this was possibly the hundredth time he had done this, going along the same route day in and day out. After all this time he had developed a sort of sixth sense about the people he carried about.

He could tell which pairs were couples, he could tell who was looking for a seat next to an attractive young lady, who wanted to be alone and so on. The driver watched as some regulars and new customers filed in. The bus driver always looked the new ones up and down to get a feel for them. One of them caught his eye, he seemed edgy and unbalanced. With a wide smile he greeted the driver and sat up close to him staring at the wheel with his eyes, full of anticipation.

The driver shrugged it off, just taking him for one of the city's more oddball citizens which came on this route from time-to-time. Unfortunately, what he failed to realize was that this passenger was no ordinary citizen; the Joker was riding on his bus.

Gordon remained silent while the mayor talked him down in the middle of the entire station for every officer to see. "Do you have any idea what a disgrace you are to law enforcement? Jack Napier has killed over a hundred people and tonight Harvey Dent lies in a hospital bed, horribly disfigured because nobody here can get their asses in gear. A man in a bat suit did better than you, a man dressed up as a bat for the love of God!"

"I understand that." Gordon replied, "We're doing our best but these budget cuts have crippled us, even the Federal investigators couldn't get anywhere on this case."

"No more excuses." The mayor snapped back furiously, "I want Napier in a jail cell or you'll be out on the streets looking for a job. Do you understand me, commissioner?"

"Yes." Gordon answered back like a wounded pup, "I understand."

Bruce listened to the woman on the other line anxiously awaiting her reply only to be discouraged by it moments later. "I see, Ms. Kyle checked out recently. Did she say where she could be contacted at?" He inquired reaching over for a pen and paper only to stop mid-way through his motions, "Oh, I see. Thank you very much."

The sound of the phone clicking into place seemed to emulate the end of this relationship. She was gone and he very much doubted he'd see her again.

Alfred quietly entered the study, "Sir, I will be leaving for the night."

"Very well, Alfred, good night." Bruce responded rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Sir, if I may make a suggestion." The butler interjected diplomatically, "Your father had a bad habit of allowing his drive to complete a given task or goal become slightly obsessive and I can see that trait in you."

Bruce grimaced, "Is there a point to all of this?"

Alfred put his brown coat on rather casually, "He took vacations. May I suggest the same for you?" Placing his hat on top of his crown Alfred gently nodded his head, "Goodnight, sir."


	11. Clown Prince of Crime Part Five

Part Five

A vacation certainly sounded like a good idea, Bruce could use some much-needed rest. He turned the television on and placed the remote next to a wooden stand beside the plush leather seat he laid into.

Could he afford to leave, could the city afford it? Bruce was realty beginning to strike terror into the average thug on the street, they were beginning to flee. If he left now it could give them a chance to regroup.

But on the other hand, Bruce _was_ tired. Working almost day and night was having an effect on both sides of his life. He couldn't patrol as efficiently as he liked, couldn't stay as alert during the board meetings as he would have preferred.

"We're sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast but we have breaking news." The anchorman declared interrupting Bruce's brooding. "Once again, terror has struck at the heart of Gotham city. Only one short day after brutally attacking Harvey Dent; Jack Napier, who calls himself the Joker, hijacked a bus full of passengers taking them hostage."

"The Joker…" Bruce murmured. Though their only encounter thus far had been brief the serial killer had proven himself to be an extremely dangerous threat, one that Wayne had not looked forward to running up against any time soon.

"However, Napier did allow one hostage to leave the bus unharmed with a note that was to directly go to the press." The anchorman reported directly to the point wasting no time at all, "In it he says that he has taken the bus to the abandoned site of the Waldo carnival and hidden the passengers somewhere on the grounds. If the police show up they will all die, instead he wants the masked vigilante known as Batman there for what he calls a reckoning. Meanwhile the police have barricaded the entire area around the Waldo carnival allowing _nobody _to pass that might jeopardize any chance they have to rescue those passengers. Commissioner Gordon has gone on record as saying that no matter what happens Napier will not escape."

A vacation certainly sounded like a good idea, it was really too bad that Bruce couldn't go on one.

----

Bruce drove up the road in one of his many black sports cars. It had been stripped of identification to ensure no link could be established on simply a visual search. The last time they had tangled the Joker had been unprepared for his arrival and even then Bruce only managed to narrowly survive, this time the psychopath was ready.

As he approached the police barricade, Bruce pulled the mask over his face, completing the image of his alter-ego. He came to a slow stop as a large fat officer pulled him over. "I guess you would be Batman." Bullock grumbled, "Why is it, this city got all the freaks?" Bruce sat still, not even moving a muscle. He didn't say a word, he just stared. Eventually, Bullock was unnerved enough that he stood aside, revealing Gordon just a few feet behind him.

"You'd better not mess up in there, people's lives are in the balance, I don't want them dying because of you, got it?" Gordon asked forcefully to which Bruce gave him the same treatment he had given Bullock. "Get in there."

Bruce waiting until the officers had cleared his way and drove past the barricade on a collision course with the clown prince of crime.

---

"He's here!" The Joker exclaimed just as he finished applying the last of his ghastly make-up. "Bat's sure is fast, I'll give him that." He slipped a small pistol into his coat pocket, "I just can't wait to see what color he bleeds."

Taking a comb, Joker wasted no time in pulling his hair back, "I wouldn't want to look like I'd just woken up for my big grand finale."

---

Bruce smashed through the front gates of the abandoned carnival. He punched the acceleration delving in deeper to the maze of empty worn-out display stands. Eventually, Bruce had had enough and slowed his car to a stop, "Napier!" He roared, "I'm here, now you can let the hostages go."

"It's Joker!" A furious roar replied stabbing through the silence of the night. "Napier is dead, the sooner you understand that, the sooner we can get to business." He screamed over the P.A.

"Fine, let the hostages go, Joker." Bruce said gently. He knew that at any moment this madman could go flying off the handle, he had to be diplomatic if only for the moment.

"That's better." Joker's tone had become more jovial, revealing the unbalance warping his mind more and more every second. "I'm in the funhouse, Bats, come and get me." He exclaimed before cackling wildly and then abruptly going silent.

Bruce grimaced, "I don't even know if the hostages are alive." He lowered his shoulders in defeat, "But I don't have any choice…do I."

---

Gordon grimaced at the sight of the mayor exiting his comfortable limo surrounded by body guards for a man that hardly even knew their names. "Hello, sir." The commissioner greeted grimly, "Are you sure that you don't want to be a few miles back, where it's safe?"

The mayor frowned, "Batman is in there?"

"Yes he is." Gordon replied.

"I want SWAT to hit that place and hit it hard." The mayor coldly ordered without the slightest hint of emotion on his face.

The commissioner stood blankly for a moment trying to process what he had heard. "What? Didn't you hear what Napier said? He'll kill the hostages if we approach."

The mayor shook his head side to side, "He'll be busy with Batman, it'll be the perfect chance to save them and arrest both of those lunatics."

"You mean the perfect chance to get them all killed." Gordon responded, "Mr. Mayor, Napier will kill them, he's brutal enough to do that in a heart-beat, and smart enough to have a fail-safe if we do something brash."

The mayor scoffed at his worries, "He'd escape tonight if you had your way, well no longer. Commissioner Gordon you are no longer in control here, Jack Napier is going to be sitting in a jail cell by twelve. Lt. Bullock, you're in charge now."

"Me?" Bullock asked, his face going pale by the sudden thrust of responsibility onto his shoulders.

"Yes you!" The mayor screamed, "That is unless you want to share the long trip downtown with your commissioner."

Bullock gulped, "No, I've got it." He sighed as the SWAT approached from the road behind the barricades, "I've got it."

---

Staring into the entrance of the funhouse Bruce was reminded of the cave, with it treacherous shadows. What shadows awaited him here, in the Joker's lair?

Feeling the rush of fear and adrenaline Bruce felt every inch of reason in his body urging him to turn around and forget this business, but the sound of laughing from within the funhouse denied him that reprieve.

He stood hesitantly unsure of what was in store with him inside the abyss. The hostages were dead, that much was obvious given the Joker's character. But then, Bruce, wondered, why did he still enter?


	12. Clown Prince of Crime Part Six

Part Six

"I was buying some sliced bread when I had an epiphany." The Joker's voice echoed out through the P.A. reaching every corner of the funhouse. "Would you like to know what it was?"

Bruce remained silent, keeping his senses trained on any possible movement. The walls were littered with mirrors, each one contorting the image of the world in whatever way it seemed fit.

"The world has brandished me a madman, a sociopath and _worse_. But it is only to hide its own madness. To an _insane_ man surely a _sane_ man would appear quite _insane_. I think you understand this, Batman, we both were masks in protest to society, to its failure."

The sound of laughter echoed down a passageway, attracting Bruce's attention. He cautiously moved towards it while trying to drown out the Joker's corrupting voice.

"You're getting closer, Batman, you're getting closer." A chuckle seemed to spew out in between his words, "So very close are you."

Bruce entered a clearing away from the maze of mirrors and emerged in some hideous nightmare. The Joker had recreated a kitchen and populated it with the mangled corpses of the hostages. A woman was suspended over the table while what seemed to be a lifeless young boy sat in his seat with a single grim sentence scribbled onto his forehead with a red marker: I'm a little brat.

"Look, Batman, take a nice long look." The Joker ordered sternly, "Are you afraid? Is this too much for you to handle?" He began to cackle madly in anticipation, "They're not all dead." Joker's voice was replaced by the crying of a young infant, terrified at the sights it had witnessed. "This baby girl still lives and I'll gladly hand her to you, safe and sound, as soon as you get here. Just keep following my laughter." He said breaking down uncontrollably, "You're almost there!"

Suddenly, the lights went out only for a select few to have their power restored, illuminating a lonely path into the darkness. Bruce traversed it, the lights shutting down as soon as he had passed it. Eventually, he reached the end of the path only for the final light to shut down.

A minute passed, every instant becoming increasingly tense than the last. Finally as Bruce finally took a blind step forward the funhouse was illuminated again, revealing the carnage. Less than three yards ahead lay the hostages, bound and gagged; each one dead from a shot to the back of the skull.

There was a door directly ahead, lights seeping through from the cracks. It was the control center, the dark heart of the Joker's lair. He wasted no time in kicking the door down and rushing in only to find the Joker sitting beside a control panel with the child in his arms.

"Hello, Bats, would you like to meet the child, his name is Mike?" The Joker said holding the alive and well baby forward, "Her mother relayed the name to me before I put one in her head." He stated with a smirk.

"Mike? I thought it was a girl." Bruce demanded.

The maniacal clown grinned, "Silly me." He recklessly threw the baby forward, "Catch, Bats!"

Bruce could see it was only a doll but that hardly meant it wasn't dangerous. He flung a boomerang which knocked the doll away moments before a low-yield bomb exploded. Emerging from the dust the Joker immediately tackled Batman.

The Joker was reaching towards his face with buzzer-hand. Bruce applied only a moderate amount of force in the proper locations but the damage was done before his opponent could make contact.

"Ah! My arm, you broke my arm!" The Joker exclaimed shielding his right elbow. "You jerk!" Bruce approached pulling his arm back. "No! Wait, I surrender!"

Bruce sent a punch straight across the Joker's face. The latter tumbled against a control panel and coughed blood onto it. "You don't deserve to live." Bruce said standing over his defeated foe.

"You're probably right." The Joker exclaimed and spun around. In his good arm was a knife that he dove in to Bruce's shoulder before he could react. Stumbling back in agony, Bruce began to pull out the blade, only to be knocked across the head with a steel pipe. "I'm no Babe Ruth, but I'm pretty damned good I'd say." The Joker exclaimed knocking Batman's skull with the pipe again. "Don't you agree?" He asked landing another shot to the ribs. The Joker readied another swing and thrust forward only for Batman to grab it mere inches from making contact.

"That's enough." He said blood dripping down onto his lips from the gums. Bruce elbowed the Joker in the nose and tossed the maniac against the wall. Moving forward faster than seemed possible for a man in what appeared to be a simple rubber suit, the Joker was unprepared for Bruce.

Batman landed two solid blows to the ribs. The Joker spotted the knife still in Bruce's shoulder and twisted it furiously. "Having fun?" He cackled gripping the knife tightly in his hands, "I know I am!"

Roaring in pain, Bruce landed a strike to the Joker's neck that had him gasping for air and backed away feverishly. He braced himself and pulled the knife from his shoulder and threw it safely away from either one of them.

"Why'd you come here, Bats? You knew I'd kill the hostages, you knew." The Joker rubbed his forearm, break visible behind the crimson stained tux. He waited for a moment but Bruce remained utterly silent, his only movement came from the motion of his breathing. The Joker's expression suddenly became scornful, "You might think I'm some punk kid, trying a stupid trick like that on me, but that bloody wound on your shoulder says more than you ever could." He pulled a gun from his hand, "Here let me give it a twin."

Bruce lurched hard to the right, only narrowing dodging the bullet as it zipped by. He wasted no time in throwing a boomerang that knocked the gun out of the Joker's hands and charged forward.

With a violent cracking sound, the Joker reached out with his broken arm and with the buzzer connected to his palm pressed it against Bruce's shoulder as they made contact.

The electrical charge was almost too much for Bruce to handle sending him reeling. The Joker then slammed the heel of his shoe into the side of the dark knight's face. Bruce fell onto his back even as the Joker pressed his foot against his skull. A cackle began to slip out of Joker's lips becoming more uncontrolled every second.

"Why'd you come inside, Bats, or is it you don't know?" The Joker laughed beginning to twist his boot on Bruce's face, "I'll tell you why. You entered because deep down we're both the same. Look at us dressed up like clowns and bats. We're both lunatics in the eyes of society; the sooner you admit that the better you'll feel."

"Joker." Bruce said struggling for air, "That broken arm you have says more than you ever could."

The clown prince of crime grimaced, "What? You're stealing my lines? That's rich, Bats, you wouldn't know a punch-line if I beat you over the head with one."

"Here." He started like a cobra ready to strike, "Let me give it a twin." Bruce grabbed the Joker's leg and in a nanosecond of extreme pressure and adrenaline broke it.

"Ah!" The clown screamed hopping away, "My leg!" His face dropped as Batman slowly rose up, torn up, but alive, and angry. "Please show me mercy."

Bruce's eyes widened in shock, "You want mercy?" He grabbed the Joker by his collar and slammed him against the wall, "You want mercy after everything you've done?" He punched him across the jaw with blood splattering against his suit, "You have five seconds to give me _one_ good reason why I shouldn't snap your neck right now."

The Joker's eyes darted across his head as he sought for a suitable response. Eventually a grin crept across his face, "Because I'm funny." He declared proudly before laughing wickedly in Batman's face.

As Bruce readied himself to put the Joker down for good the sound of footsteps echoed out throughout the funhouse accompanied by men barking orders. "What?"

"Looks like the police decided not to sit this one out." The Joker responded, "They'll most likely put us both away. Of course I can help _you_. Just put me down."

"Why should I?" Bruce demanded.

"Because if you don't then I'm sure we'll both get nice cells, right next to each other." The Joker grinned knowing that Gotham PD had given him just the ace card he needed. Bruce complied and took a step away; the wound on his shoulder was becoming sore now that the adrenaline in his system was thinning out. "Good. Now there's a backdoor that way that leads outside where you parked your car. Behind the dunking booth is a service road. The police don't even know it exist, those idiots. Now I suggest you get going."

Bruce closed his fist, "They should put you in their darkest deepest cell out of _my_ reach, for your sake, Joker." He said moving towards the back door.

"Ciao, Bats, I trust you won't forget me." The Joker said as Batman vanished behind the door leaving him to tidy up while SWAT made their way into the funhouse. After about a minute had passed which during the Joker lay against a wall impatiently waiting, they finally entered the control room, horrified at the needless death they had seen.

Bullock, in charge of the operation, finally came face-to-face with the ruthless but now bloodied serial killer. "Jack Napier, you are under arrest."

"I told him not to attack me. I told him that doing so would bring about their deaths, but he didn't listen. He said that he didn't care what happened to them." The Joker declared.

"Get that scumbag up." Bullock ordered while the members of his SWAT team approached and put the sociopath into cuffs.

The Joker began to chuckle madly, "Don't worry officers; it'll take more than a few broken bones and sore muscles to put me out of action. Besides, things are _just_ starting to get interesting in this two-bit town; I can hardly wait to see what happens."


	13. Outcast Part One

Outcast

Part One

"I hate this job." Sam blurted out as he and Mickey traveled down the long dark tunnels of the Gotham sewer system. "Sure the pay is good but what about all of the other stuff."

"I'm not complaining." Mickey responded shining his lamp ahead of them, illuminating the tunnels only a few feet ahead of them.

Sam grimaced, "Well of course you're not complaining, you don't have to deal with a wife who refuses to sleep with you because you smell worse than the little presents our puppy keeps leaving around the house. The kids are afraid to hug me because they think they'll get the smell stuck on their clothes."

"That's why I never married." Mickey replied.

Sam laughed, "No, you never married because you're a lazy bastard." He sighed, "Let's just find the junction, unplug it and get out of here."

"That sounds like a good plan." He shone the light forward and they could see an intersection, he checked the damp map in his hands, "The junction is just to the right. Hey, Sam, what unlucky dummy do you think had the privilege of their waste coming up through the pipes?"

"Probably some rich jerk." Sam answered following Mickey almost religiously, never straying more than a few inches of the lamplight. "Otherwise we wouldn't be down here so quickly." He raised his helmet from his head and put it against his mouth in a vain effort to try and block the almost overpowering aroma. "Wait." The color slowly began to flush out of his face, "Did you hear that?"

Mickey stood motionless for a second turning his ear towards the darkness, "I don't hear a thing."

"I swear I heard something." Sam vowed anxiously, "It sounded like…growling, think there's a dog down here, maybe?"

"Not a chance. It took us a half hour to get down this deep, no dogs down here, man. I think maybe this job really is getting to you."

"Listen!" Sam exclaimed loudly is voice echoing down the vast maze of tunnels. "There's something there, shine the light to your right."

Mickey sighed rather annoyed with his partner, "You are letting this place get to you. I am telling you there is nothing there!" He exclaimed shining the light to where Sam had suggested.

Out of the darkness emerged a figure. It was fast and before Sam could even muster a scream Mickey was taken into the darkness. A moment of silence passed, there were no sounds of a struggle or death, just dripping water and screeching rats.

Sam reached over to the lamplight, "I have to get back upside; we need the army or so-something." The sounds of growling returned, "H-hello?"

----

Bruce tinkered on his boomerang weapons with an almost obsessed level of dedication in the center of the cave. The bats screeched every so often reminding him that he was not alone. But that hardly bothered Bruce, he felt comfortable in their presence. Each kept to themselves, hardly giving their new neighbor any attention at all.

He was _supposed_ to be attending a ball tonight, to help benefit one charity or another. Bruce hadn't really been looking forward to it; he had already experienced the smiles from Gotham's socialites, and the sense of women draped over his arms, and didn't care to relive it anytime soon. Out there, everything was so_ false_, but here in the darkness Bruce hid nothing.

Making slight modifications after hours of conceptualization was fulfilling enough for now. His boomerang weapons were more sleek and stylized, taking on the appearance of a bat. It was almost comical in appearance forcing a grin across Bruce's lips. Nevertheless, it would serve his purposes well.

But the levity of his mood was soon washed away; he rubbed sorely at the wound left by the Joker. People had died, and though it had been entirely out of his hands according to logic, Bruce blamed himself, wondered had he gotten to the scene more quickly could they have been saved?

Yet, he still managed to count his blessings. With the Joker locked away at Arkham Asylum, he wouldn't have to push himself quite so hard.

----

"It never stops." Gordon said with a grimace leaning back into the chair situated so that he could stare out of his window and at the oppressive spires of the city. "Jack Napier is finally placed in a padded cell and then this happens." He exclaimed gesturing towards the newspaper with a bold title: Killer Croc roams sewers?

"It's a crocodile, so what?" Bullock inquired, "Probably escaped from a zoo or something."

Gordon shook his head, "Come on, look at the facts. Six people have vanished, three in the sewer and three in alleys next to manholes. It's deliberate and planned. Whatever this is, I think we've got another serial killer on our hands."

Bullock sighed, "This Goddamned city, it's full of lunatics."

"Start up an investigation, but keep it quiet. I'd rather not the press or the mayor, get a whiff of what's going on."

----

"Please, please, don't hit me!" a punk named Luis, screamed, blood pouring out of his broken nose.

Batman slammed him against the wall of the alley, "You're a degenerate." He declared coldly, his eyes betraying no emotion. "You scumbag, did you think you could rape a woman? Did you think you could commit rape and get away with it, get away from _me_?" He had seen the aftermath of the crime not five minutes ago.

The criminal collapsed against the side of the alley wearily, "Wait, please, I work for the Boss. You know the boss right, Maroni? Come on, don't hit me, please!"

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Bruce asked picking up Luis.

"You're not afraid of the Boss?" Luis inquired, "He controls half the entire city. Are you insane?"

Bruce threw the rapist against the side of a dumpster. Was the question even relevant? He moved in and with a quick nerve strike totally incapacitated Luis who crumpled onto the floor, "When you can move again, I want you to go back and tell your 'boss' that things have changed."


	14. Outcast Part Two

Part Two

"Batman did this?" Maroni, the Boss, looked at his underling, his face a maze of bruises and gashes, "Batman touched you!"

Luis nodded, "I told him I worked for you; he didn't care. He told me to tell you that things have changed." He repeated Batman's words to the letter while rubbing some blood from his cheek with a handkerchief.

"He didn't care?" The Boss grimaced, seated behind the table in his office, bodyguards flanking either side of him. "He didn't care? I made this city from nothing! It was a pile of dirt before I got here. Mayors get elected when I so much as smile at them! Nobody disrespects me! Nobody! He thinks he can put his nose in my business!"

Maroni slammed his hand on the table so loudly that even his guards flinched at the noise, "Get everyone together, we're having a meeting."

----

Bruce raised the weapon in his hands, stared down the length of the barrel and saw his father on the receiving end. "How far will you go?" Wayne senior inquired. He pulled the trigger.

A bullet found its way into his father's chest. "How far, Bruce, how far are you prepared to go?" Another bullet found his heart. "How much farther _can_ you go?" The son fired again. "How much farther _will _you go?"

"Shut up!" Bruce barked trembling, pulling on the trigger frantically emptying the gun. "Leave me alone!"

Thomas Wayne's face began to melt off.

"Stop it!" Bruce screamed waking up. He clambered about loudly disturbing the bats' sleep. He was in the cave, safe and sound. After the surge of adrenaline died down, Bruce wearily buried his face into his hands, "I haven't slept for days, I think it's starting to get to me. Maybe I need some rest."

The radio he had set up in the cave to eavesdrop over the police channels seemed to suddenly explode with activity. "We need back-up at the Gotham Aquarium! We need backup!" A voice screamed distinctively above the others.

Bruce grimaced. Sleep could wait. He pulled a case out from under the work-table, safely protected and out-of-sight from any possible intruders. Out he pulled his cape-and-cowl. It was time for the mask to come off.

----

Looking at the aquarium, one would not have noticed a problem. Things would have seemed rather content and peaceful if not for the blood moving about in the tanks. The SWAT team entering kept their eyes open.

So far details were sketchy. There had been a disturbance, the guards on duty called for help. When the police arrived several officers went in to look around, shots were heard and the officers outside called for help. SWAT was called in and that's where they stood at the moment.

"Stay frosty." The captain ordered as they made their way to the ominously vacant shark tank.

"Think its terrorist maybe?" One of the team members asked checking his weapon meticulously.

The leader grimaced "Cut the chatter." They moved under the skylight, just beside the seal habitat.

"Or maybe some green-peace people, that makes sense." He said showcasing results of the cutbacks made to Gotham's law enforcement budget.

"What are you, a rookie?" The leader asked harshly, "I told you to the cut the chatter." Not an instant later, his head was knocked clean off.

The rest of the SWAT team went into an immediate panic. A gray figure stood behind them, its eyes caught in the grip of a powerful rage. He struck, advancing before they could retaliate. A few short, but horribly violent moments passed, each member falling to the ground, a bloody mess, until there was one.

The surviving member finally got a long look at their attacker and suddenly he wished he had died with the others. It was at least over seven feet. Its rough exterior; seemed to convey an inhuman aspect of its very existence. It was male, at least it appeared so: his lean body was covered in the blood of his fallen enemies, his chest heaving in and out as he panted. And now with no one else, he turned to his prey.

"W-What?"

"What am I?" The creature spoke with a raspy voice, "That's a good question. I'd like the answer. As for my name, your kind calls me Killer Croc." He roared scornfully at his victim, "What kind of name is that? That's what you call a _freak_."

A new figure emerged tackling Croc away from the guard and quickly taking up a defensive stance while the other rolled across the ground. "Get out of here!" Batman ordered to the survivor who was more than eager to comply.

"What? What are you doing here?" Killer Croc asked furiously rising back to his feet, "This is none of your business."

Bruce grimaced, his face hidden by the mask, "I'm _making_ it my business." He pulled a boomerang out from his equipment belt. "You can either surrender now or later."

"I'll rip you limb from limb!" Croc roared charging forward.

He threw one the boomerangs landing a direct hit to the skull with no effect. Bruce lurched to the right, barely escaping the charge. As he rolled back up to his feet, Croc was already upon him, wasting no time in pressing his attack.

With every ounce of speed he could muster he slipped under the wild swings of the mutant. Bruce landed a powerful strike to a nerve center directly under the arm, a strike that would have paralyzed a normal man, but failed to so much as make Croc blink.

Taking the opportunity, Croc punched Bruce directly in his chest; the force of the blow sent him smashing against a display, shattering the glass case. "My mother always said I was strong as I was ugly." Killer exclaimed with a smirk.

Bruce rose up to his knees gasping for air. Whoever this thing was, it had just hit Bruce harder than he had ever been hit in his entire life. Croc grabbed Bruce by the neck slamming him up against a wall like a rag-doll before casually dropping him back down.

"That first blow was a lucky one. You won't live long enough to get another in." Croc vowed raising his foot over Batman's skull.

Bruce managed to roll out of the way just as Croc brought his foot down, the collision caused cracks to run across the surface of the floor. This wasn't a thug like Luis, or a psychopath like the Joker. Killer Croc was superhuman and Bruce was hopelessly outclassed.

----

"Thank you all for coming to this meeting." Maroni said to his fellow associates in the sanctity of his penthouse. Before him were assembled various captain and lieutenants: his most loyal men.

"We came as soon as we got the call." One of the captains exclaimed smoking a cigar.

"Batman is what's going on." The Boss replied.

One of the goons grimaced, "Batman?"

"That freak has decided to declare war on us."

"Excuse me." Another underling interrupted as respectfully as possible, "But, is this really a problem? Don't get me wrong, Batman's a jerk-off, but it's not like he can do more damage to us than a D.A. or police chief."

Several others chimed in with agreement, many of them declaring Batman to be a minimal threat if one at all.

Maroni shook his head, rather disappointed with them, "None of you really understand do you? You see right now Batman's nothing." He clasped his hands together, "Right now, he's just a loser with some pointy years. But what if he does become a problem?"

"How can he?" One asked, still respectful in tone, but disrespectful in actions, "What can one loser do to us?"

"Next time any of you interrupt me, I will have somebody cut off your balls. You understand me? Good." Maroni sighed recollecting his thoughts, "Look at what happened in New York. That _entire_ city belonged to the Kingpin. And he was taken down. Not by a legion of police, or a court order, but by _two_ men. Batman declares war; I hit him as hard and as fast as I can before he even gets the chance to do the same to me. I want everyone, whether they're a soldier or a _pimp_ that works for me to open his eyes and ask questions. We're going hunting."


	15. Outcast Part Three

Part Three

Bruce was tossed across the aquarium like a rag-doll. His flight ended with the violent crash into a glass display. He rolled over onto his back and gasped for air. "Just give me a minute." He murmured to himself quietly, "I just need a minute to get air back into my lungs."

Killer Croc stood over him, grinning widely. "Get up!" He roared, his lower lip trembling with adrenaline. "You're not going to die that easily, now get up." Croc picked Batman up himself and dangled him up several feet from the floor by his neck. "I'm going to break your body in two!"

Behind the muffled groans, there was little doubt that Croc was simply too strong to be fought down. Just barely mustering the energy to reach into his belt he pulled out a flash bang grenade and shoved it towards Croc's face and averted his eyes at the last possible moment.

The explosion left an after-effect around the edge of Bruce's vision, but Croc had taken the entire thing. The creature let go of Batman and stumbled away, screaming for the loss of his vision.

It wouldn't be long before the grenade wore off. Bruce wasted no time and pulled the grappling hook from its place along the length of his utility belt. The front metal section opened up revealing the claws needed to hook onto surfaces. It was a move of desperation but he had few options left. He swung the cable with precision and force. The hook embedded itself into Croc's shoulder forcing a cry of agony.

"Stop this." Bruce barked tightening his hold on the cable, "You need help. It doesn't have to be like this."

"Help me? That's a joke!" Croc ripped the cable out of his shoulder and tossed it to the ground, "Help from your kind is a death sentence. You know what they will do to me, what they have _already_ done to me?"

Bruce grimaced, "What?"

Croc laughed somewhat dejected suddenly, "I-I can't remember. It's just _images_ in my mind. I want to forget them." His face became a scowl, "But I can't!" He suddenly lunged at Bruce overpowering him within seconds.

That grenade should have blinded him for another few minutes. Whatever Bruce was dealing with, was definitely beyond the limits of anything he had ever dealt with. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

The creature picked him up by his torso and raised him off the ground. Bruce landed in as many punches to Croc's skull as he could muster but to no avail. Croc slammed Bruce against the exterior of the large shark tanks. The glass cracked but managed to hold.

"You see that, Batman?" Croc said pointing to the sharks gleefully, "That's nature's best hunter. It's a machine of destruction and a vehicle of death." He gave off a toothy smile, "This glass is designed to resist gunfire." He cracked his knuckles and then casually punched a small hole through it; water immediately began to pour out onto the floor. "Whoops; look what I did. I better plug it up with something." He grabbed an exhausted Batman and scratched him across the face with a shard of glass so that blood seeped out from the gash across his cheek. "Say hi to them for me will you?" He used Batman to plug up the hole, specifically his head. Croc intended to make this as painful as possible. His head was inside the tank with the sharks and the blood pouring from his face began to leave a red stain in the water. Croc stood behind him, outside the tank, holding him in place, eagerly watching the show.

It wasn't long before a shark caught the scent of blood. Chances were they wouldn't eat him; sharks typically didn't have a taste for human flesh. That didn't mean they wouldn't maul him first to get a taste to determine if he was edible material or not.

He had to act fast. The sharks had already gotten a whiff of the scent from his blood and were approaching, their mouths seeming to quiver with anticipation. Bruce couldn't overpower Croc. He couldn't break the glass. He was doomed.

No! Bruce wouldn't take defeat. He could think his way out of this. He had to _think_. Suddenly, a moment of inspiration came, revealing the only possible chance of survival. Bruce slammed the heel of his boot directly into Croc's testicles forcing a horrible roar from the creature. He stumbled away a foot loosening his hold on Batman. He wasted no time and slipped his head out from the tank moments before the sharks snapped away at where he had been. But the sharks were already moving too fast to slow down and turn away. The largest slammed straight through the weakened glass.

Batman dived to the right narrowly avoiding the shark as it flew the air like a deadly missile. Killer Croc wasn't as fast. He twisted away, but the shark's vicious teeth ripped into his skin. Croc managed to push the fish away with impressive ease, but the damage was done. A large wound poured out blood from his chest.

"You bastard, look at what you've done!" Croc screamed to his adversary, backing away from the shark lying on the floor flipping across the floor loudly. "I-I-I don't feel so good." He said beginning to show the effects of loosing so much blood. "I'm done with you." Croc began to walk towards the back exit, every step more sluggish than the last.

"What?" Bruce grimaced, "You can't just walk away. You're coming with me." He said in pursuit limping from a sore muscle in his leg.

Croc laughed painfully, "You're welcome to try and stop me yourself. But I doubt you'll succeed. Even wounded I could tear you in two." The creature grinned widely, "I thought your kind played _fair_." He exited, heading towards the basement of the facility.

Bruce stood still for a moment pondering whether he should just turn back. It didn't take very long to realize that it wasn't really an option. The decision had already been made.

"Freeze, you make a move and I will put a bullet through your head, Batman!" An officer ordered with a dozen at his back, "Put your hands in the air. You're under arrest!"


	16. Outcast Part Four

Part Four

The police officers filed out of the building, moving their way through the mass of reporters that had surrounded the aquarium, leading a cuffed Batman towards a police van. They had left his mask on to avoid his face being plastered all across the evening news before the police could get together their official report.

Bruce grimaced with every step he took. _The Dark Knight: humbled. _He could see the demise of the Wayne legacy not far down the road. He imagined the shame his parents would have endured had they still been alive. Bruce was glad they were dead, he was glad that they couldn't see him like this. It was better that they knew nothing of his _weaknesses_.

Wait. Bruce wasn't doomed, yet. This would take some time, unfortunately, of which he had little.

"Okay, get him loaded in." One of the officers casually reported placing himself between the van and the reporters.

Bruce sat down near the rear, with two of Gotham's finest by his side. The driver took his position and started the engine.

"Make sure any available units meet us at the station. It's going to be a feeding frenzy with the press there and all." The driver demanded over the radio as he began to drive down the road, leaving the mobs behind.

After several silent and awkward minutes had passed traveling down the long haunting streets of Gotham, the driver slowed the vehicle down as they came to a traffic light.

"I don't hear any other patrol cars." Bruce noted, "They let you go on by yourselves?"

"Keep quiet." The driver replied harshly.

"That was a mistake." Bruce suddenly struck out with both fists each into an officer's nose sending them back in astonishment and pain. His escape had been quite simple really; he had merely wriggled his hands out of his gloves of which the cuffs had been placed over. The city's police department was notoriously incompetent of which they were now going to suffer for.

As the driver spun around, Bruce nailed the heel of his boot against his jaw knocking him out cold. The automobile careened to the left, and for a brief and violent moment, he struggled with the two remaining policemen until the van smashed into a light-post.

The van sat there; smoke pouring out of its engine, while the wheels spun slower and slower. The city was deathly quiet, people were afraid to go out at night. The back doors exploded and Bruce emerged. Blood poured from his noise and his ribs felt bruised.

He began to stumble away from the wrecked vehicle. "An ambulance should be along shortly." The van suddenly exploded throwing Bruce to his feet. The fiery inferno had assuredly left none alive.

Bruce gasped for air and in surprise as he slowly and with great pain stared at the flames, just making out the horribly charred outlines of human frames. This had been his fault. He had _killed_ them.

---

Killer Croc returned to home in the sewers, the flickering lights of the dead sanitation workers reflected off of his face. "Who does Batman think he is?" Croc asked full of rage. "It was none of his business!" He applied pressure to his wound as he slowly trekked down into the tunnels.

"I was just hungry, that's all. Don't I have a right to feed? Don't I have a right to survive?" Croc mumbled on, growing more frustrated with every step he took. "Why do they _always_ get in my way?"

"They bother you, because you're not human." A voice suddenly called out from the shadow, "They are afraid of you because you are _different_. They want to destroy you because you are _better_."

Croc stopped in his tracks, his heart frozen. "W-who's there?"

"Surely, you remember me." A reply full of disappointment came.

"That voice." Croc grimaced, "Who are you?"

A laugh echoed through the sewers, "Why, I would have thought you would have recalled the voice of the man who gave you life. I am your father, your _creator_."

---

Bruce clumsily stumbled into the alley smashing against a garbage can loudly. Every bone and muscle in his body ached. The sounds of sirens filled the air: the police were on their way.

He passed deeper into the maze of Gotham's backstreets. With every step he became weaker; the injuries he had suffered began to take their toll now that the adrenaline in his system began to wear thin.

Finally, after minutes of aimless movement he collapsed. Bruce slammed lifelessly against the side of a building and closed his eyes.

---

Gordon entered the aquarium with Bullock at his side while several dozen of his officers finished securing the crime scene, "This is great; the mayor's going to have my head for this. We had the building surrounded and we lose our killer _and_ Batman escaped from armed escort."

"Look at the bodies." Bullock said with a measure of disgusts. "Eight-ten years ago, this was a quiet city. Figured I'd have it easy working for the police department. Boy was I wrong."

"I need a new job." Gordon lamented and walked back towards the exit.

---

The Joker grinned from inside his prison cell at Arkham Asylum. A television had been placed just outside his cell, a reward from the city for confessing to several unsolved crimes. Go figure.

"And while it seems the authorities did indeed have the masked vigilante known as Batman in custody for a short while, reports are coming in that he somehow escaped."

"Now there's a good Bats." A chuckle began to echo throughout the asylum turning into a maddened wail that pierced the souls of the cruelest inmates.

---

"Boss: quick, over here!" A man in a suit yelled entering the back office of the gentlemen's club, "We did it!"

Maroni ushered a girl out of the room and zippered his pants up, "What? What did you do?"

"Johnny Tortelli found him up against a wall, blind stupid luck." The underling elaborated gesturing towards the entrance, "We have _him_?"

"Who?" Maroni asked exasperated. Through the entrance came four men, followed by numerous guards, all heavily armed with submachine guns. "Jesus, you _actually_ did it!"

In their clutches, his men carried none other than Batman. Maroni laughed, "Get me a gun. I'm going to blow his head off personally."


	17. The Longest Night Part One

The Longest Night

Part One

"Get him up!" Maroni barked furiously holding a desert eagle tightly in between his hands, "I want him standing."

His underlings complied, forcing Bruce up to his feet to which he could only groan in protest. There was no escape from this; that much was obvious. Bruce had pushed himself to the limit of physical brutality that a human being could endure and now would pay for it with his life.

"Pull off his mask." Maroni commanded sternly, "Now."

"Wait." Bruce managed to mumble but the goons took no heed and pulled the sturdy cowl over his head and in what felt almost anti-climatic he was exposed.

Maroni stepped back in surprise, lowering the end of his gun away from Batman's face, "Are you sure this is the right guy?"

"Without a doubt, we found him just a few blocks away from where that police van carrying him crashed." One of the captors responded.

"Do you know what this means? Do you know who this is?" Maroni laughed and pressed his gun against Bruce's temple, "That means Batman is Bruce Wayne."

Maroni's second-in-command who had been largely keeping out of the affair suddenly leapt to his feet from a stool he had pulled out of a corner, "Bruce Wayne, the rich guy, that Wayne? So what now? Do we waste him?"

There was a pause while the Boss thought the situation over. Whatever his solution ended up being there would be no questioning it, no doubt. "Nobody that rich wants to lose what they've got. Get a chair and set him down on it. I have a better idea."

---

Gordon stared at the burning wreckage flanked by officers. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. He'd be held responsible, his men had lost Killer Croc, his men had lost Batman and now his men were dead.

Bullock sighed writing down notes onto a small pad, "This city never cuts you a break, doesn't it."

"Not now." Gordon replied harshly, "Listen, I want an immediate APB for Batman. Have every unit we got and begin a block by block search. I don't care if they're in the middle of sting, off-duty, whatever, I want them down here within the hour."

The oncoming rush of news vans could be heard down the street, "And keep those people out of my face!" Gordon scornfully demanded.

"Commissioner, you okay?" Bullock asked a little concerned with Gordon's visibly rising temper.

"No, I'm not!" He replied, his eyes now beginning to water up, "Do you have any idea of how many corpses I've seen this _month_. It's enough, I'm sick of playing games with PR people. If I have to institute martial law or something I will."

Bullock gazed at the surprised expressions of his fellow officers and then pulled Gordon away from the prying eyes of those present for a moment, "Sir. I understand that you are upset, we lost good men today. Just calm down, don't go and do something that'll end up getting you fired."

"Don't do something to jeopardize my job?" Gordon grimaced, "My job is to keep the people of this city safe! That's my job! Now get those barricades set up."

"Wait, sir-."

Gordon's eyes turned icy cold, his breathing was tight but focused, "Do it."

"Yes sir." Bullock replied hesitantly and realized how much attention had now turned their way. Sucking in his pride he faced them, "You heard the man, now get to it!"

---

All of it was his fault. Three policemen had died because directly through his actions. He had committed murder; there was no getting around it. They had died because of his pride, because he was too afraid to face the consequences of his actions. Bruce almost wished Maroni had pulled the trigger.

Instead he was forced to listen to the mobster outline what could only be described as his final humiliation. "You want me to work for you?" Bruce asked pressing against the ropes that bound him to the chair and finding any effort to break free a futile one.

"Yes." The Boss replied with a sly grin on his face.

"You'd be better off shooting me now and getting this all done with." Bruce defiantly declared.

Maroni laughed, "I knew you'd act like this, _at first_. Hear me out, I don't want you to go shake people down, nothing menial like that, I understand it'd be a violation of your morals." He leaned in closer facing Batman eye-to-eye, "I want you to help me take down my rival, the number one headache in my life, the Roman."

Bruce grimaced. He'd heard the name before. Supposedly was in control of crime in all of upper and west Gotham city, a very dangerous figure, one that if crossed would stop to no ends to have retribution. Word had been that he really was a supposedly honest industrialist by the name of Carmine Falcone.

"Let me get this straight." Bruce began, "You want to turn me loose against the Roman so that you can monopolize your hold on crime in the city." He laughed, trying to hide the very real pain he was suffering from, "And I am to assume that in exchange you won't reveal my alter ego to the entire world?"

Maroni smiled, "That's the idea. I figure a man like you has got to be business savvy. You'll see a good offer when you get it. And the best part is that we're not affiliated. Only a very small circle of men know you're here. If I was to attack Carmine, his successor, his men would rally against me. But if you got rid of him, took away their leader, I could move in like some kind of savior and grab enough power to smudge out anyone that'd be against me. Afterwards, you stay out of my hair, and I'll never so much as sneeze in your direction again. Sound good?"

Bruce grimaced, "The moment I get loose: I am going to beat _every single person_ in this room to a bloody pulp. Sound good?"

Maroni stopped smiling; his toothy grin was now replaced with anger. He punched Bruce across his face, "Don't be stupid. You've got no chance of walking through these doors without my say-so. And from what I've been told you're now wanted for murder, so I'll give you some time to think it over and weigh what few options you have left. You two: stay here and watch him. He so much looks at you wrong I want you to shoot his brains out. Come on, Jimmy, let's go."

As the Boss and his second-in-command left the room to enjoy the women of the club, Bruce was faced with the grim reality. Maroni was right, there seemed to only be a few, two-in-fact options available to him: Do what the crime boss wanted or be killed.


	18. The Longest Night Part Two

Part Two

Carmine Falcone "the Roman" sat on the terrace of his luxurious villa overlooking Gotham's suburbs. Dressed in a white tuxedo his hands he shook the martini in his hands, "My dear are you alright?"

His wife smiled taking a whiff of the smoke pouring out of the end of her cigarette, "Yes, it's just cold."

"Come here, then." Carmine urged, "I'll keep you warm." She complied finding comfort in his hold, "The city is quite beautiful at this time of night."

"It is."

With an expression full of caring he rested his chin against her head, "But not quite as exquisite as you."

She laughed, "You're a hopeless romantic, Carmine."

One of his bodyguards entered, "Pardon the interruption, sir, but Mr. Maxwell is here; he says it is urgent."

Carmine sighed, "If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to." He left his wife alone to watch the view while he met Simon Maxwell, his most trusted Lieutenant, in the dining room. "Hello."

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you." Simon said respectfully, "But I have news you'll be interested in."

"Yes?"

Simon raised his eyes ever so slightly, not making eye-contact with the Roman. "Our man at the Boss' night club has news."

"Really? What is our good friend, Maroni, up to?" Carmine asked casually.

"They have Batman."

---

Bruce had a nightmare. In it he ran down the alley where his parents were killed. He could hear the laughter of the gunman getting closer and closer. The skies bled red. His hands were dipped in the crimson stain.

He fell into the shadow and hid. But there came a light, his father was searching for him and Bruce was more than happy to run to him. As he came closer, Thomas Wayne pulled a weapon out of the large smoking wound in his chest and aimed.

"No!" Bruce roared, he turned away only to find the pistol's barrel in between his eyes. His father fired.

"Wait!" Bruce screamed breaking out from his slumber causing the guards to momentarily jump back in shock.

"Keep it down." One of them barked annoyed at the unwanted surprise.

Bruce groaned and momentarily struggled against his restraints and hesitantly laid back into the chair.

"Stay still you piece of trash!" His guards demanded training their weapons on him.

Trash, that's what he was? This man with barely a high school education had nailed his character down pact. Bruce grimaced and lowered his head in shame. Why had he done this? What had this brought him? He had killed men in cold blood. The Joker was right, they were the same.

---

Alfred watched the news reports on the television in his small but modest apartment. The headlines played across the screen without stop, each time slowly shoving him off of the cliff that he had perched himself on top of: _Batman kills_.

Folding his arms to hide his shivering fingers from his own sight, he closed his eyes in disgrace. Everything he had done for Master Wayne, his years and years of support, it had all been for naught. His father would have intervened the moment he suspected something.

The butler rocked his head back, reeling from the realization that he was not Bruce's father, tried as he had over the years to be. "I have done this to him." He looked at a picture of himself from many years ago with Bruce's parents: so many smiles, it had been such a beautiful day, such innocence. Alfred sighed loudly unable to contain his grief any longer, "I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm so sorry."

---

The mayor pushed his way through the barricades surrounded by personal bodyguards. "Commissioner, I want to have a word for you!" He roared ignoring Bullock as he attempted to intercept the statesman.

"This is just what I need." Gordon whispered quietly under his breath before breaking a smile and shaking hands with his boss. "Good to see you again."

"I wish I could say the feeling was mutual." The mayor replied dryly, "But every time I see you it only means things are worse. What is this I hear about you searching local homes?"

Gordon nodded, fully expecting this to be the topic of this unwelcome visit, "We're searching for Batman, he was apparently injured and we doubt he could have gotten very far."

The mayor frowned, "I don't want you acting like the Gestapo."

"Excuse me, but do you want Batman arrested?" Gordon asked to which the mayor nodded, "Then I'm going to have to leave no rock unturned in searching for him. I can promise you that my men are taking every precaution possible to ensure the safety of the public."

"There had better be no mess-ups, Gordon. Not with the election just around the corner. If you cost me, I will make sure your career crashes and burns! Got me?" He waited a moment while a deadly silence filled the air, "Got me?"

Gordon grimaced, he showed no fear, no signs of being intimidated, "I have a job to do." He declared leaving the mayor to attend to business.

---

Bruce could see his utility belt. They had casually placed it on a table less than a dozen feet from him. If he could get to it, a few well-placed smoke-bombs should procure him an easy escape.

But it wasn't as easy as just that. Maroni knew who he was and a man as cold and merciless as him would have no qualms about giving him up to the police. So what if he escaped? Would he kill the Boss? Would he kill? Could he kill?

The question was a loaded one, something that couldn't be answered with a definitive yes or no. Those officers' deaths were his fault; there was no disputing that, but how much farther did he want to go?

Whatever his decision would be it would have to be made quickly. There wasn't much time, Maroni would be back soon and if the crime boss didn't hear what he wanted to, Bruce would end up with a smoking hull in his skull.


End file.
